


Holographic Entrypoint

by hallucane



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, rated for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-13 11:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallucane/pseuds/hallucane
Summary: Scott, not Scotia. They have to take you seriously. Perception is everything. Look like you're winning, act like it, and they're winning with you -- regardless of the depths you've sunk into.Reyes. Not that other thing, the title both whispered and said aloud as the only force to face the self-styled ruler of the planet. Perception is everything. If they can't see you, they can't fight you. But oh, you can take the fight to them.





	1. the way sound leaves a room

Scotia Ryder had never actually drowned, but in that moment, he figured he then knew what drowning would feel like. Limbs floating, though they rested on plastic or steel, some hard surface. The air temperature was low, permeating through him to his core, like wind through mesh. He was relaxed. He was paralyzed.

One by one, aspects of himself phased into reality, into the physical sense. Lungs expanded, then deflated. His chest rose and fell. The thumping of his heart echoed between his ears, pace at the opposite of racing, calling on music that lingered on longer notes, heavier bass, lower pitches. His mouth was closed, so he has to be breathing through his nose.

 _I’m alive_ , he thinks.

“Yes,” comes the response.

He shot upright, palms slapping against the slab he was laid out on, right into someone’s arms. Scotia gasped, as if starved for air. “Breathe, Ryder,” he heard someone say. Female. Cora? No. “You’re alright. We’ve got you.” That’s Cora. “Breathe, Pathfinder. Nice and slow.” Liam. His voice was easier to separate, and the proximity meant he’s the one holding him up. Those hands moved to push at his shoulders, and he followed the suggestion, laying back down.

Having some practice with it, Scotia took a minute to focus on his breathing, keeping the pace as he dialed it back. Slower. Deeper. More air. Time was not ending, compressing around him from all sides, squeezing him to death in all things but physical.

Feeling sufficiently controlled, he opened his eyes slowly, wondering how many gazes would be leveled on him. Three. Liam, Cora, Dr. T’Perro.

 _Dad?_ He thought, trying to subtly look behind the three staring at him.

“Your father did not survive Habitat 7. Your helmet was shattered and, in the moment, he chose to save you.” A beat. “Scotia Ryder, you are now the human Pathfinder.”

Nobody seemed to react to the voice he heard-- no, felt, as if it were his own thoughts.

“This is our private channel; one I shared with your father. All the rights and permissions as Pathfinder, along with my presence, were passed on to you.” Scotia took another minute to collect himself, not willing to meet anyone’s gazes again just yet. SAM’s in his head. SAM hears his thoughts. Scotia looked to his side, then twisted to see the massive hologram that represented SAM’s processes. Like putting a face to a name, looking at SAM reframed things a bit more. He nodded to the hologram, then turned back to the others.

Liam watched him more calmly than Cora did, her concern showing in her lowering brows. “Are you feeling okay, Ryder?” she asked, sounding skeptical.

As he went to speak, SAM interrupted. “She cannot hear this. She likely harbors doubts about my connection with you.”

Scotia offered a small smile, though it wasn’t clear to who. “I’ll be alright. Just need some time to process.”

That seemed to relax Cora some, her stance falling back towards her heels. “Alec always did say you were resilient.” Liam and Dr. T’Perro started to turn to her, but Scotia waved them off. “It’s fine. SAM filled me in. Again. I’ll just need some time to work through it.” What he understood was that the shock hadn’t set in yet, and he was hoping that the others would leave before everything sank in.

Lexi glanced between him and her omni tool, not betraying much of anything. “You’ll also need some rest. The stress that SAM put your system through, while saving you, will take time to recover from.”

After that, the others filtered out of the room. Cora lingered a little, watching Scotia, looking for...something, but she didn’t appear to find it. Liam clapped his shoulder and offered that smile of his. Scotia couldn’t not grin back. The doctor took her leave after checking a few things, not adding much more than extracting a promise that yes, he would go back to sleep, if he was able.

Alone again-- no, alone with SAM, Scotia spun on his ass to face the representation of the AI. He stared up at it, studying. Watching the lights flicker and move, from omni tool orange to nearly biotic blue.

“There was more to what your father passed for you, in me.” Scotia perked up, sitting straighter to listen. “I have more control over your physiology, more access to your sensory information, than the SAM models assigned to the other pathfinders.”

That was curious. “What can you do to me?” He asked, chuckling a bit at the implication. “And, does anyone else know?”

SAM’s voice was steady, easy to imagine it filling the room, rather than emanating from his own head. “I am able to enhance your abilities in various degrees for the purposes of combat and reconnaissance, in a number of areas. Physical strength, resilience, pain tolerance, biotic abilities, and technological interfaces can be enhanced.”

Scotia’s eyes widened. “Enhanced?” After how Habitat 7 went, he’d take any edge he could get. His minor mass effect field wore away at the aliens they faced, providing weakpoints to target and sap energy from. Redirecting some of his own shields to Liam, and eventually Cora, hopefully earned him a bit more respect. By keeping his own shields charged, he hoped to spread some of that cover to the others willing to get in close, with him.

“I cannot create skills where they do not yet exist,” SAM said, almost backpedaling - if it could change its tone. “but I am able to amplify abilities that you would already have access to, through training or study.”

At that, he had an idea. “Take your data from the fighting on Habitat 7. What would you recommend?”

“Sentinel,” SAM replied almost instantly. “Your skills are specific, and by amplifying pinpoint control of biotic effects, tying them to your personal shields, and enhancing your use of the omni tool’s combat functions, you should operate well as a focal point for enemy fire while your team moves to the flanks.”

“Oh.” Scotia blinked, looking from the floor, to his hands, then to the hologram that was SAM, considering. If he’s to lead a team as Pathfidner through situations like Habitat 7, then it’s only right he accept more of the risk. He gave SAM a nod. “Sounds good.” It did. It really did. Or, more aptly, it sounded right. Good would come when the team would recognize his efforts for what they were. _I want to keep you safe._ He would tell them with his actions, and then if they were amenable, then with his words.

“Your consideration would make you a good leader, Pathfinder.”

As hard as he stared, he couldn’t pull a face from the jumbled dots of color.

“Thanks, SAM.”

Scotia laid himself back down, recognizing the weight settling in his stomach. The feeling was familiar enough to ring the right alarm bells. _Mom,_ he thought. _Now Dad, too-- and Sarabelle. She has to make it. She…_ Closing his eyes, he felt a push towards passing out that was a little more forceful than falling. Sleep swallowed him swiftly, before the rising grief could chase him past its maw.

 

\--

 

Rising, changing into clean clothing, and heading through the airlock into the Nexus was a bit of a blur. Everything was in the same white-and-blue, ‘Ai’ logo clear and clearly placed. The ones he took off didn’t have a smell he could detect, but neither did the new ones. In his exhausted, still-waking state, he balled the new clothes up and pressed his face into them. Deep inhale...and nothing. No trace of himself, of his father, his sister, nobody. He sat there, staring blankly at the wall, clothes bundled up in his hands, until Cora came knocking to tell him to move.

She’d also said something earlier, but he was still drifting between asleep and awake, only making the noises that seemed appropriate to both lower her volume and send her on her way. What was up with her? Did she push his dad like this, working as his second?

He mulled it over as he dressed and moved to join the others outside the hub. “I can recall the conversation for you to review if needed, Pathfinder.” Scotia pressed his eyes closed, wincing. “Not necessary,” he said aloud, causing both Cora and Liam to turn to him.

“What’s optional?” Liam asked, falling into step beside him. Shaking his head, Scotia attempted a grin, hoping he didn’t look as tired as he felt. “Nothing,” he replied, jokingly. “Everything’s mandatory, now. Daily showers. Three meals a day. Two excursions into evil space yarn-infected planets each.”

“Evil space yarn?” Liam laughed. “I like it. I mean, I don’t like it, but I’ll like calling it that. Makes it feel more harmless.”

All things considered, as they passed into the strangely darkened terminal connecting the Hyperion to the Nexus, Liam handled himself well. Laughing in the face of shredded plans, life or death situations. Scotia needed that -- on his team, his council, anywhere he could get it. Sparing Liam a second glance, the _anywhere_ stretched a little further, but he chided himself for getting a foot on that road.

“Pathfinder, reviewing Liam Kosta’s dossier and profile offers little evidence that he would be responsive to any advances.”

Scotia froze mid-step, shocked. Did SAM just--?

Liam turned. “Did I say something?”

His eyes flitted from Liam to the space beside him, as if looking between two people. “No,” he said to both. The invisible second received a brief glare. Liam looked to where Scotia was staring, then turned to continue into the Nexus.

 _Great. Now he thinks I’m seeing things._ The sneer was clear enough in his thoughts.

“His former position in crisis response likely makes him uniquely receptive and accepting to any odd behaviors you might exhibit while coming to terms with your recent upheaval and loss.”

Moving to catch up to the others, Scotia offered a mental _thanks_ before falling back into step. When he looked over at Liam this time, he hoped his gratitude was visible. Liam met his gaze, smiled, and nodded. Scotia nodded back.

Cora ended the moment, having paused before an Asari-formed hologram. Avena, if he remembered right. “This AI’s out of date-- still calling Habitat 7 a ‘lush paradise’. Do they not know what’s out there?”

Getting an idea, Scotia activated his scanner, getting a reading on the projector base. SAM filtered the information directly to him, and he turned to the team. “Looks like she hasn’t been updated since she was booted, and she’s reporting an uptime of over a year.”

Cora nodded, brows raised. “That you, or SAM talking?”

Feeling unthreatened, Scotia squared himself, straightening his back and shoulders. “How could you tell?” He asked in his best impression. Liam chuckled, Cora rolled her eyes, and the three of them continued into the terminal.

The first face to meet them was a wide-eyed technician, who was waved off by a similarly wide-eyed Turian. Their tour was more of an escort at the hands of the Head of Security. ot that Kandros appeared to harbor any ill will towards them, but that their presence Changed Things.

Hands appeared to be moving onto deck around them as they moved to and then from the transit system. Those rushing around them might’ve stopped for a glance, but they never lingered, hurrying on to wherever they were needed.

They were brought to a dark control room, massive glass windows revealing nothing. The two that stood to meet the, Salarian and Human, looked around them somewhat expectantly. He stepped forward.

“Scott Ryder. Human Pathfinder.”

“That is not your name,” SAM said somewhat suddenly. He did his best not to give a reaction, but made a mental promise to explain later. Director Tann and Addison started asking about Alec, which led to the inevitable ‘He’s dead’ drop. Not even SAM could’ve helped that go over any better. Addison was disappointed, determined to survive, and presumptive about Ryder’s impending failure. Tann seemed eager to get him out into space, onto planets, chasing the arks, fulfilling the promises made by his father and more. A Krogan approached once Tann made off with Cora, somehow seeming less threatening than the other two. Superintendent Kesh. With a wave of her hand, the lights came on down the length of the unused, unfinished sectors of the Nexus, now possible with one fourth of the anticipated power and materials.

After revisiting the other two problem cases, Scotia doubled back to Kandros, spotting and waving to Liam on the way. The Turian was just as eager as before, offering direction of various strike teams for him to aim and direct as he made his way into the Heleus cluster. The appreciation he expressed was genuine -- only Kandros and Kesh seemed assured of his success in a positive way. Tann seemed more focused on solidifying his position. If he succeeds, then Tann absorbs credit for his faith. If he fails, then the director writes it off as a solid attempt, having thrown the only challenge to his authority out the airlock.

After leaving Kandros, Scotia slowed his steps, recognizing the tugging at the edges of his vision. Air ran thin, fleeing his lungs faster than it would return. He found a bench and sat. Addison’s disappointment manifested like a wave, swelling with each echoed sentiment. Scotia closed his eyes, bracing to ride the wave as it crested, and hopefully, passed.

His father died for him. Because he was weak. The wave started lapped at his ankles, rising to steadily to his knees.

Sarabelle should be awake. He should be in the coma. Deep, even breaths. It swelled to reach his stomach, curling over his legs.

Cora should be Pathfinder. He has no right. He’s up to his neck in it, holding his chin out and up, refusing to let it in his nose, to let it drown him.

“Pathfinder?”

Of course.

Eyes still closed, Scotia tried to put an image to SAM’s voice. A presence. Something more real than the sounds between his ears. Something solid.

“Pathfinder-- I’m reading abnormal levels of distress.”

Unwilling to make a physical display, Scotia flooded his mind with images of drowning, of walls closing in, of suffocating out in dark space, hoping SAM would get the picture. _Hah._

“Pathfinder.” SAM’s voice was steady, a balm against the still-rising tide. “Your lungs are operating at full capacity. You are seated on a bench in the Nexus, and your expression is tired, eyes closed.” He wasn’t making a scene, was what SAM implied. “You appear to be resting.”

That’s exactly it. Resting.

It rose over him, submerging him in the negative, lifting somehow from water to air. Still, he kept his breathing steady. If he appeared too relieved, someone would know something was up. Their Pathfinder--the only Pathfinder to return through dark space, had to be calm and clear.

After another few minutes, those being actual rest, Scotia rose to his feet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before heading back towards the terminal.


	2. manipulating, exacerbating, real frustrating

For all her quirks, Umi Henon was the better bartender on Kadara. Her drinks were strong. Her prices were fair. On those accounts, the man downstairs in Tartaros might have an edge. Seedier bar, fewer rules since he ran in the slums, fewer dues owed to the Outlaws and the queen at their crown. The clincher was the information.

Umi had ears, and she used them. Whenever Reyes challenged her on having her hearing enhanced, she simply waved him off, demanding to know if he’ll ever remember to pay without her calling him out on it, or some such nonsense. She always got her credits, regardless. No need to complain.

It was that penchant for picking out secrets and stories that brought Reyes up from his usual perch in the lower bar. The Resistance wanted news from the front-- the Nexus was on the move, supposedly attempting to settle, again. Evfra understood the difference between word of mouth and actually collecting information. That distinction led to his own position on the payroll.

Reyes leaned on the counter, back bent, ass popped, eyeing the rest of the bar. Some met his gaze, and they were met with the appropriate nod or smile. Keeping friends on this side of Kadara Port was vital for Reyes’ survival, as well as his future plans.

Practice and practicality had him feigning disinterest in the latest arrival to the bar. A quick glance to Umi earned him an eyeroll. Enough information to concern his suspicions.

“How unexpected to meet you here,” he offered over his shoulder, keeping his eyes off the target, for now.

“Shove it up your ass.” Obviously, Zia Cordier wasn’t impressed. She motioned for a drink.

Reyes chuckled. “Oh. But we tried that already, didn’t we? I’m not the one who got squeamish.”

If it weren’t for both credits and gossip, Umi would’ve left the two alone, her expression turning sour. Reyes lifted his drink in salute to her sacrifice.

Zia turned to face Reyes, but he didn’t move to meet her. “Why are we here?” She asked, her voice rather even. Either her patience had grown, or she’d improved her ability to hide her lack thereof. “You wouldn’t call me just to flirt.”

Umi scoffed. “Not anymore, at least.” Zia’s responding glare was withering, but Umi didn’t wilt.

“Let’s play nice, and we can all come out of this on top.” Reyes took a pause to drink. Umi was a purist when it came to alcohol. She wouldn’t offer anything on the rocks, with water at such a premium. This way, the burn could be savored for what it was. “Between the three of us, I would believe we’d have half the secrets Kadara Port would claim to contain.”

The counter rang with the force of Zia setting down her glass. “You’re flattering me.” Her gaze narrowed, leveled at Reyes. “You want something.”

His hands went up. “You caught me.” Turning his palms, he checked each of them, and shrugged. “Not exactly red-handed, but you aren’t wrong.” The timing felt right. She was the appropriate level of cautious, and likely a bit frustrated. Reyes stood fully to lean his hip on the bar counter, facing Zia properly. “I’ve caught wind of a settlement on a planet -- what’s the phrase? Third time’s a charm?”

Umi glanced to the other patrons before leaning in. “Some other smugglers aren’t happy about it. Even heard that the atmosphere’s been affected, somehow.” Both of them were hoping Zia would connect the dots. If her smug grin was any indication, she had information they didn’t.

“My, what a day it is, that I have news that hasn’t been filtered first through the two of you.” Arms folded, she leaned back a bit, looking down her nose at the two of them.

Reyes tilted his head, brows barely furrowed. “I’d say victory looks good on you, but this--” He paused, eyeing her up and down. “This is gloating, and it isn’t flattering.”

“What’s wrong, mister Vidal? Can’t handle being second to the punch?” _Yes_ , he thought. _That’s it. Lord it over me._ “If this is too much for you, I could lighten up. Promise.” _Zia loves her games. There’s something here._ Reyes maintained his minor pout, all but begging for scraps with his eyes. “Resilience was never one of your defining traits, was it?” Her eyes lingered on his as she spoke. For all her skill in a fight, Zia could never really keep secrets. The flaw should be endearing.

However, with Reyes, some secrets must be maintained.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss how best to appease me,” Zia said as she turned to leave, dismissing them with a wave. Even her walk as she want for the stairs was inflated with confidence, a sense of pride.

Umi looked at Reyes. Reyes looked at Umi. She wasn’t impressed, either.

“You got that, right?” She asked, reaching under the bar for a glass. When he maintained the silence, she set the glass on down, laying her hands flat on the counter.

“Promise.” She gave it a few seconds, waiting for him to react. “Resilience.” Reyes maintained the blank look. After a minor staring contest, Umi threw her hands up, turning to fill the glass she’d pulled. “You’re hopeless, Reyes. With Zia, and with this.”

For effect, Reyes stayed at the bar a little longer, nursing the whiskey and looking pleadingly to Umi for answers. She never cracked. _Good,_ he thought. _Keep that one to yourself._

 

\--

 

The room in Tartarus was a comfortable as ever, seating along the wall worn in by who-knows-what. He needed a base of operations, and the private lounge would suffice, as long as the owner kept the price at a standard rate. Work hadn’t slowed, but like any good plan, his investments were eating into his bottom line.

Wealth rarely went stagnant on Kadara. With Sloane as the standing exception, any large amount of credits had to move, lest the target on one’s back grow too big to outmaneuver. More work for more credits, more credits for bigger guns, bigger guns for more work. Who was he, to go against the cycle? Those he was hiring and outfitting wouldn’t be able to report on him directly, meaning he was a bit more safe than just any smuggler, grander designs aside.

With an arm stretched along the back of the seat, Reyes lifted his feet to rest on the table, watching the door for his next arrival.

She never kept him waiting too long. He liked her for that.

“Keema, Keema, Keema…” He called as the door opened, since she was one of the few with the proper lock code. Anyone else would have to be manually authorized. She lingered in the open door, one arm raised, hand planted on the doorframe. Her other hand on her hip, she scrutinized both him and the room he was in. “You expect me to meet you in the back room of a bar, and you aren’t even dressed up for me?”

Her approach was watched with much-deserved attention -- Keema Dohgrun walked like pendulum on approach, hips swaying in what would be a hypnotizing rhythm. Each step included a little twist. Were his room a little longer, he’d enjoy a bit more of a show, but she was at the couch and seated alongside him soon enough.

“You’re looking at me like you’re planning to eat me.” Keema was amused, turning to settle on the seat, facing Reyes. “It’s too bad we both know it’ll never work out.”

In response, he stretched upwards, pushing his chest out and rolling his head back with a salacious groan. “My,” he said, voice strained. “You have _no_ idea what you’re missing.”

Keema made a show of un- and then recrossing her legs, slowly lifting one over the other. “And I never will.”

They maintained eye contact for another good minute before she started to break. Angaran laughter was a pretty thing, like that of a human but filtered through a thin veil of water. Not quite ethereal, but alien all the same. It made sense. His chuckles were likely just as odd to her, though likely not as fascinating.

“I could never stare you down, Reyes Vidal.” She composed herself once more, settling more comfortably against the seat. “Your face alone is humorous enough, without all the subtext.” He lifted his hand in faux shock, pressing fingers to just below his throat.

“You wound me. To think, I consider you my dearest friend…” A look towards the ceiling, and he too corrected his posture. Playtime was sadly over. She recognized the shift and leaned in, interest clearly apparent. Her eye for detail was one of the numerous reasons he kept her so close. She glanced between Reyes and the door, so clearly waiting for what came next.

The room was his.

“Rumors are flying, as they always do. The Nexus has reentered the game. I am unsure what convinced them that starving themselves out of existence was a boring way to go, but obviously something changed.” Reyes paused. Keema remained rapt-- or at least she appeared so. Sincerity wasn’t necessary. Either way, he appreciated the gesture. “Eos is the name so few of us seem to know to say, and it’s the third round.” The subtle widening of her eyes likely meant that this was, in fact, news to her. _Good_. “The Kett likely still run that planet unless the Nexus figured out how to grow guns and soldiers from nothing.”

He watched her process, wondering how she’d tie the threads together. Everything that went into their mindsets would lead down different roads, arrive at different stops, even if the eventual conclusions are the same. Keema was just barely nodding as she started to lean away. “If you found Kadara, then they will find Kadara. From what you’ve said of them, those from the Nexus will not take well to a planet filled with so-called Exiles.” He tilted his head to her, accepting the point. “That is true, but take it a few steps back. They failed twice, and now they’re either desperate enough to try again, or somehow, they know they will now succeed.”

There was a moment as she worked the points over, rolling through them again from the start. “Something changed. They’re putting themselves on a planet almost completely overrun with Kett, which they would do, unless…”

His smile flashed into place as he leaned in towards her. “There it is. You’ve got it.”

It’s endearing how the Angara feel so deeply. Her shock was so clear on her face, he could nearly taste it. “They have a weapon against the Kett.”

His point was made. Now, for the follow up.

“We need to reacquaint ourselves with the Nexus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're racing through things and not reading over them and putting them up before you can second guess yourself, clap your hands
> 
> /golfclap


	3. all the landslides birds have seen

Scotia pushed the button to call his first outpost into existence, crawled back into the Tempest, and went to sleep.

 

\--

 

Eos was a radioactive blur of red-orange rock, combat, discovery, and--oddly enough--recruitment. They’d arrived on a day the Kett had taken to patrolling the planet, which Scotia chalked up to the universe attempting, as always, to kill them. Cora took it in stride. Liam asked if he’d have it any other way. Vetra laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder as she walked by, promising to keep him safe. Scotia stood watching his team move ahead of him through Promise.  _ That’s my line _ . He jogged to catch up to them.

Promise offered a fight -- his first fight as Pathfinder, in charge of his own squad. He’d waited until just before the Kett landed, figuring one or two of his team might have differing opinions regarding his strategy. Crouched, back against an already- looted supply crate, Scotia waved the others over.

“I’ll move with a light biotic field directly to their front. Throw some fire around. Disrupt their frontline, if they have one. Cora, you and Liam take opposite flanks as heavy hitters. Vetra moves in behind me to cover the two of you and take out any stragglers.”

Surprisingly, nobody challenged the plan. Cora even looked a little impressed, while Liam just seemed ready to go. “So what do we do if this doesn’t work, Pathfinder?” Vetra asked, regarding Scotia somewhat carefully. She seemed the type to test those she worked under, with the consideration to provide only lightly chiding correction in the event that he should fail. Regardless, Scotia did not want to fail.

“Rally point is nearest cover with me between you and the enemy. I’ll hold them off if we have to pull out.” He met her gaze with what felt like confidence. “First in, last out.”

Vetra cocked her rifle on her shoulder, nodding slowly in approval. “I’ll take it. Personally, I consider it a good feeling when the head of your squad’s trying the hardest to die.” He gets the Turian equivalent of a smile. At least he thinks. “Means you care about us.”

The Kett ship leveled out, dropping combatants like so many seeds from an upturned palm. A disfigured, floating toddler scattering dreams of wildflowers over a small patch of dust. They could never grow. Roots would tangle, compete for everything from water to food to light, each choking the life from the other.

Scotia wondered as he raised his shotgun, were the Kett an invasive species? Did they belong here? Did the come intent to conquer, or did they start out seeking a new home?

The first round of fire meant it was time to move.

 

\--

 

Riding on that first success, Promise offered a Nomad 6-wheel drive transport for their troubles, answering the unasked question of how to move beyond the radiation shielding of the first settlement. He considered checking on Resilience, but it was likely a lost cause and could be saved for later. The Kett wiped the Milky Way out of the area. Rather than ruminate on what already happened, Scotia wanted to keep the team’s eyes forward. Huge, alien monoliths, not unlike the one on Habitat 7. Climbing to the nearest in their new vehicle introduced them to both Peebee, a wild Asari scholar, and the Remnant. He and Liam had faced one before, but they didn’t have a name for the construct. Now they had titles like Breacher and Assembler and Observer. She was equally as curious about them as she was destructive towards them, disrupting their functions as she knocked them askew with biotic blasts.

Activating one monolith pointed out the others, which provided Scotia with a comfortable set of objectives. Turn the towers on. Scrub the atmosphere of radiation. From there it got a bit more complex, but on the ground, it stayed simple, attainable. Momentum led them to find a base built at the foot of the second monolith, and in it, Nakmor Drack. Their first meeting left much to be desired on both accounts. While it was nice to know that a Krogan was holding his own against the Kett, Scotia would’ve honestly had Drack join them right there, rather than watch him waddle off over the corpse of one of the Kett’s stealthy bear-hyenas. They’d gotten through a good number of Kett to get that deep into the base. Regardless of how long he’d been fighting on his own, Scotia was loathe to leave a potential ally behind. He didn’t have to wait long, at least.

The third monolith led to a lake, which culminated in a bridge lifting out of the water to meet their feet and Peebee half-rejoining their efforts in exploration. Between the gravity wells, seemingly endless remnant, and puzzling switch configurations, Scotia was pushing against the dual sense of being overwhelmed and exhausted as they progressed deeper into the planet. 

_ There is no indication that the entirety of this complex must be discovered in a single attempt , Pathfinder. _

While SAM used their private channel, Scotia looked to the side of the Remnant console he’d paused at. “We have to keep going,” he whispered. “The others. They aren’t ready to stop yet.”

_ You are methodical, considerate, and deliberate in your decisions. If you state that you need to stop, either to consider how to proceed or simply because you need a break, it would not be outside your expected behavior. _

For whatever it was worth, SAM understood, but he still couldn’t stop. He briefly shook his head. Cora was coming up behind him, and he didn’t want to risk someone overhearing. She looked over his shoulder just as he moved his hand to activate the console, columns rippling to flatten and then rise over the surface. Some pillars ahead rose, while others sank into the conducting fluid below. He stared ahead for another minute, treading water against the rising tide. He’d hoped it only looked like he was judging the distance to jump.

The structure, now being called a ‘vault’ by the team, seemed to go on beyond understanding. Was the entire planet hollow? Eos and Habitat 7 were both believed to be ‘Golden Worlds’, before whatever had passed in the over 600 years it took them to arrive, not to mention however long the delay was in observation based on distance. The gravity of it all was staggering, almost immobilizing when paired with the cobalt-black expanse stretching out before them.

Between SAM and Peebee, Scotia was able to navigate them to the console that likely handled the lockdown. With it triggered, the vault should reset, turn on fully, and begin the process of cleansing Eos’ environment, making the planet hospitable. With a deceptively steady hand, Scotia activated the console, chewing his cheek against the burnt-wire feeling crawling over his brain.

Light faded as the glowing liquid-like projection before them slowed to a stop. Relief, at least, from the static under his skull. Peebee’s excitement was nearly palpable, pushing against the rest of them in the cavernous room, looking around for what else might’ve changed. The low hum of echoing machinery was replaced with silence. Scotia turned to consider each of his teammates, who were all focused behind him, reeling to some degree.

“Pathfinder--” Liam started, reaching to grab Scotia’s arm. He turned just as Liam started to pull, staring up into a cloud of grey-blue dust and red streaking sparks, billowing forth from somewhere in the complex. It seemed harmless, until the unmoving shell of a Breacher was rendered to ash in its wake.

Scotia ran. Dodging upward blasts of vented heat, charging Remnant, and lakes of shield-draining gel, he ran. The tunnels led to a turn he couldn’t take before, stopping at a gravity well nearer to the last terminal than the entrance. It didn’t matter. They had to make it. Once ascended, they approached their rally point, finding the door sealed shut. Vetra, Liam, and Cora all pushed and heaved, but the cloud still rolled forth, devouring both the path they originally took, and the way they’d used to try to escape.

_ Pathfinder. _

SAM’s voice had Scotia twisting to look behind him, and he saw a Remnant console that wasn’t active before. Cora saw him turn to run towards the fog. “Ryder, don’t!” Scotia’s hand was already over the keys, soaking in the static, as he waited for the cloud to wash over and dissolve him completely. His eyes were still closed when he heard the others gasp from behind him.

It was beautiful.

 

\--

 

Now armed with both questions and answers, Scotia led the group out of the vault and back into the Nomad, the day’s events beginning to blur. SAM provided coordinates, Vetra drove. A prospective location for a third colony. Splattered over a back seat, he laid as far back as he could, the back of his wrist over his eyes.

_ Pathfinder, _ SAM said again, privately.

Scotia answered with a groan.

_ There are signs of combat ahead, near the colony drop point. I will provide the nav point to Vetra Nyx. _

He felt the Nomad swerve before anything else, using the momentum to launch himself upright and towards the doors. “Hit ‘em fast and hard. It’s straight to the Tempest after this, so if you have any hard limits, feel free to hit them.” Liam whooped. Cora flared brilliantly, casting the inside of the Nomad in that eezo blue glow. As soon as the brakes caught enough to stop them, the doors were open, Scotia nearly falling out to hit the ground running.

The taunting coming from the spattering of Remnant construction was familiar. Scotia hefted his shotgun, Pushing his aura out to the heights of his abilities. He could feel when it washed over the first Kett in his way, noting the decrease in his shields when he was fired at. His energy crawled on the Kett standing behind the pillar before him, probing for weaknesses, breaks in the armor. Reversing the current of an overcharge, Scotia dove around the pillar, aimed, and  _ pulled. _

The Kett crumpled to the ground, jittering with the remaining charge. Scotia’s shields were full, again.

Distinctly Krogan laughter led Scotia to the right. He followed the sound to find Cora suspending a Kett in the air between herself, Drack, Liam and Vetra, the group of them surrounded by corpses. Canisters of stored thermal fluid and coolant wobbled before lifting slightly off the ground, at his approach. Cora looked over, nodded at the pathfinder, then returned her attention to keeping the last enemy incapacitated. Drack appeared amused by the prospect.

After receiving a look from Scotia, Vetra leveled her rifle and pushed a solid round into the lifted foe, triggering a hefty detonation. Cora reeled from the release of her grip. The Kett flew impossibly high into the air, limbs loose and wiggling. It was just as likely dead. Drack’s laughter grew until it almost sounded painful, his arms wrapping around his chest as he leaned over. The canisters lifted by Scotia’s aura clattered to the ground.

 

\--

 

Their progress on the planet, between Kett and Remnant forces and his own forward-pushing drive, left Scotia beyond drained. It wasn’t as gentle as falling asleep, but plunging face-first towards it, most of the way there before his body hit his bed. Armor was removed in the hold where the Nomad rested, leaving him in his combat suit -- but that was left strewn across the couch in his room from a lucky toss. He’d hit the bed bare, unwilling to either wait for a shower or deal with grains of Eos rolling between his skin and the thin, protective material. Though he hadn’t been awake enough at the time to pull the sheets over himself, some mild rolling and turning had a blanket laying over the backs of his thighs, only partially hiding the curve of his ass.

It was there that Peebee’s attention was focused. She’d gotten through the door Scotia had forgotten to lock-- or maybe it was on purpose? Open door policy? Either way, he likely hadn’t meant to leave his room vulnerable before falling asleep like this. Looking back, he did look a bit on the south end of awake when they finished the fight with Drack and the Kett. Cora had mentioned Addison expecting to hear from him the second he woke up, giving Peebee the excuse she’d needed to check out the captain’s digs.

She ended up checking out the captain, instead.

Starting from the rounded, half-revealed cheeks, she looked next to a pair of thick, maroon brackets, starting at what seemed like his tailbone. They followed his spine, leading her to creep forward in an attempt to follow them to the end. She ended up beside his bed, a few feet back, crouched to maintain that ‘stealthy’ feeling. The brackets ended at the base of his neck, just before the brown-orange of his hairline. Looked recently trimmed, or at least maintained. Peebee let her gaze roam over the expanse of Scotia’s revealed back, lines of work and mild strength accentuated by both shadow and the tattoos, pulled up into thicker shoulders.

When he rolled towards her, she pulled back, hands in front of her. When he didn’t rouse, she sighed in relief. Then he opened his eyes.

“SAM buzzed me when you walked in,” he deadpanned, staring directly into Peebee’s eyes. She had the courtesy to look caught, at least.

She gave it a minute, relaxing her stance, letting herself look a bit more. Lines ran down from his eyes in the same maroon as his back, starting short and getting longer as they approached his nose. It also matched the Y-like, blocky pattern over one side of his neck, as well as the thick bars over his obliques, underlining his chest muscles the way a corset might, leaving the center of his stomach untouched. From his face, Peebee knew she should’ve assumed the tattoos went further, but she hadn’t guessed at how much.

His brows rose as he watched her, less in shock, more unimpressed. “You done?” He asked.

Her hands found her hips. “You telling me this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Since the conversation seemed to be continuing, Scotia pushed himself up to sit, leaning back against the window. Her eyes traced the line from his neck to his chest, then to points south. He made no move to cover himself.

“I’m standing here, in your room, checking you out.” She gestured towards his crotch. “You’re  _ naked _ . And nothing.”

Scotia folded his arms over his chest, shifting his hips back to settle into the position. “Yup.” His head canted to the side. “Your point?”

She frowned, nodding. “Guess I don’t have one, anymore. Have SAM lock your door next time you fall asleep.”

“Or else you’ll sneak in and take pictures?” He asked, raising his arms to stretch, then web his fingers together behind his head. She narrowed her eyes, then turned to leave.

“--and Addison landed with the outpost, demanding to see you a-sap!” She called out, likely alerting the rest of the ship to his now-conscious state.

Once the door was closed again, Scotia let out the yawn he’d been holding back, bending forward to pop his back. “Of course she’s the type to say it like a word.” He faked a gag.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most motivated I've been when it comes to writing something. sincerely hoping to keep it going.


End file.
